A View From the Outside
by Lassar42
Summary: Severus Snape recieves a gift from Lord Voldemort. Now what will he do with her?


This is my first ever Harry Potter fic. My first fic for that matter. Not by any means my   
  
first peice of writing however. Anyway, have mercy.  
  
As always, no money is being made by this, and everything you may reconise belongs to the   
  
marvelous J.K. Rowling.  
  
******  
  
A VIEW FROM THE OUTSIDE - CHAPTER 1  
  
Autumn MacLoud stood under jets of hot water, surrounded by thick steam. She wasn't   
  
thinking of much except sleep. She'd had a long day. Her tense muscles slowly relaxed   
  
under the almost-too-hot water, and she rinsed the conditional from her long auburn   
  
curls. Finally she bent to turn off the water, rapped a towel around her hair, and stepped   
  
from the white porcelain tub onto the black and white checkerboard floor. She brushed   
  
her teethe and pulled on a long, sleeveless, dark green nightdress. After checking her   
  
appearance once more in the mirror, she opened the bathroom door and exited with a rush   
  
of steam.  
  
She exited into the hallway only to find two unknown men. One was tall and athletic   
  
with long platinum hair and very refined features, the other short, squat, and nearly bald.   
  
They seemed to be talking to one another and looked up moments after Autumn stepped   
  
out the door, exchanging a conspiratorial look. The taller man looked at her first, she was   
  
suddenly struck by the coldness in his eyes, silver eyes that nearly matched his hair. He   
  
arched one platinum brow and nudged the short man, drawing something from his sleeve.   
  
Autumn did not see, she was too captured by those terrible eyes. The eyes of a killer, she   
  
thought to herself while aloud just managing to get out "Who the fuck—" before hearing   
  
a smooth voice say something she didn't quite understand and seeing some sort of flare.   
  
It was all she knew for a while.  
  
Above the still form of the muggle girl they had been sent to fetch, Lucius Malfoy and   
  
Peter Pettigrew congratulated each other on their fine job. Voldemort might be pleased   
  
with this one.  
  
******  
  
Many miles away, Severus Snape woke from a nightmare he had only vague memories of   
  
to a despicably familiar burning on his left for-arm. He struggled out of the sweat soaked   
  
sheets and stumbled, unusually ungraceful, to the wardrobe across the chamber. He   
  
hastily donned his Deatheaters' robe and mask, then touched his darkmark and in an   
  
instant arrived at his former master's side.  
  
First thing he did upon arrival as countless times before was to kiss Voldemort's feet, and   
  
then retreat to his place within the circle of similarly masked figures. He noticed that two   
  
spots were conspicuously empty. This did not sit well in the mind of Severus Snape. All   
  
the others in the circle fidgeted a bit in the silence. Not one knew why they had been   
  
summoned so abruptly and unexpectedly.   
  
The sound of a heavy door swinging open instantly cut through Severus' contemplations.   
  
He saw only two figures half dragging, half carrying something between them, it was   
  
hard to even begin to guess the identity of any of the three in the dim light outside the   
  
circle. As they came closer, Severus could see what they were dragging between them,   
  
and his blood turned to ice.  
  
The unconscious girl between Lucius Malfoy and Peter Pettigrew was dressed in a long   
  
white corseted dress, plain and unembellished, but obviously made from the finest   
  
materials. Her neck, wrists, and ankles were hung with silver chains adorned with white   
  
opals. Her feet were bare, and her long curls were loose, but for a silver chain circlet   
  
with yet another opal drop in the center of her head. Her long eyelashes brushed her   
  
smooth cheeks as her lids fluttered. All this to Severus' mind made her look like a   
  
sacrifice victim straight out of an obscene fairy tale. This though made his heart   
  
plummet, another innocent lost to Voldemort's overly theatric cruelties.  
  
Malfoy and Pettigrew dropped the girl at Voldemort's feet, and hurried to fill the gaps in   
  
the deatheater circle around the Dark Lord and his newest prize. When they were in   
  
place, Voldemort rose and pointed his wand at the hapless girl at his feet, as he muttered   
  
a casual "Enervate". The fluttering eyelids suddenly snapped open, and the girl seemed   
  
very lost for a few long moments before looking up into the face of her captor with a very   
  
audible gasp. She recovered quickly, and from her knees asked, challenge crackling from   
  
every word, "Who the hell are you?"  
  
Voldemort opened that slit in his face that was the only remainder of his mouth and   
  
answered her in his horrible syllibant voice, "I am your Lord, Voldemort. I will not   
  
tolerate that tone of voice, be warned only once. And you will address me as Master."   
  
He added the last with a chilling smile that could wither the heart of powerful wizards.   
  
Autumn MacLoud however seemed unimtimidated.  
  
"Ah, yes. Please excuse me Master, I had no idea my Lord. I am at you disposal.   
  
Obviously." Her voice dripped sarcasm. "Master." she amended unconvincingly. Her   
  
entire posture suggested defiance, from her flashing eyes, to her outspread hands. If there   
  
was one thing Voldemort hated, it was defiance.  
  
He brought up his wand he was still holding and pointing it at the girl, "Crucio!" Severus   
  
could tell from where he was that the dark lord was enjoying this torture. He always   
  
enjoyed torture. Meanwhile the girl was writhing on the floor and screaming in pain.   
  
The positions she took were having an obvious effect of arousal on many of the   
  
Deatheaters in the circle. After nearly a full minute, "finite incantatum" Voldemort   
  
intoned. Autumn lay exhausted and panting on the floor, every inch of her pale skin   
  
sheened with sweat. Voldemort smiled, "I warned you once." His tone gentle, almost   
  
seductive, "You don't want me to do that again."  
  
"Fuck you" the girl on the floor managed to gasp out around the lingering pain of the   
  
Cruciatus curse. Voldemort's face contorted with rage. With a wave of his wand, all the   
  
fancy cloths and jewelry was gone, and the girl lay naked at Voldemort's feet. He   
  
grabbed her by an upper arm and hauled her to her feet. He looked into a pair of green   
  
eyes filled with contempt. He slapped the girl with all his strange and had the satisfaction   
  
of seeing her head snap to the side with force, and consciousness leave her eyes. He then   
  
thrust the unconscious body forward toward the gathered Deatheaters. "A treat," he said   
  
"for my loyal servants. Severus, follow me." He walked away toward the door Malfoy   
  
and Pettigrew had brought the girl through.  
  
******  
  
Severus followed the dark lord while trying to drown out the sounds of the scene behind   
  
him. When he was through the door it shut with a sharp click behind him. Voldemort   
  
waited for him in a throne like chair, and Severus dropped to kiss the hem of his robe.   
  
He remained on the floor to hear what Voldemort had to say to him, head bowed,   
  
dreading it for it rarely was good. "Severus, you have always been a good servant to me.   
  
If there is anything left of that girl out there, I want you to have her."  
  
"H-have her my Lord?" Severus asked uncertainly. No this certainly couldn't be a good   
  
thing, he thought wildly.  
  
"Yes, as a reward. After all I wouldn't have her if not for you." Seeing the   
  
incomprehension on Severus' face, Voldemort continued "It was you that pointed out that   
  
not every country was as meticulous in keeping track of their mud-bloods as Britain. She   
  
is a 16 year old untrained mudblood." Voldemort said with satisfaction, "quite hard to   
  
find, but there are a few. Not everyone has one of those marvelous little books like   
  
Dumbledor." He said that name like it was a nasty word. "She's yours; slave,   
  
apprentice, wife, whatever you want of her." Voldemort smiled in a cold way and laid   
  
his hand on Severus' shoulder in a gross perversion of a fatherly gesture. 


End file.
